Well, last night there was a duststorm which pretty much ruined my attempts at photography. Today it's raining. This bad boy is the reason for the foul weather. My island (Awajishima) is located right under the eye of the storm shown in the last frame of the animation.
I'll attempt to take more photos tonight, but I'm afraid they won't turn out as well as I had hoped.
UPDATE: We got totally rained out. Life sucks. Lileks, stand down.
Our trip to Kochi was partly accidental; it started with a flat tire that I needed to replace. Kochi was the largest city around, we had thought about going earlier, and I knew there would be an open tire shop there if we hurried.
The local >Autobacs was indeed open, so while I negotiated for a pair of Dunlops, Nam used my laptop to look for a good hotel online. We stayed in the Comfort Hotel (related to the comfort Inn chain) in front of Kochi Station, which I would link except that their air conditioning really sucks (I think this is a large factor in how they keep their prices down), and this is an unforgivable sin in the heat of the Japanese summer. They are a new hotel and a deluxe double went for 8,000 yen, so I might try staying there in the spring or fall.
Anyhow, we checked into the hotel and went looking for a likely place to eat and wind down. Lo and behold, there was a little robata-yaki place next to our hotel, where you are served by the hosts with a long wooden paddle. The food was excellent - local and fresh.
Story continued in the extended entry...
Tonight and tomorrow I will be taking photos of the Awa Dance here in Sumoto. If you are a Minnesotan named James Lileks who once wrote about the Awa Dance on your kick-ass site (The Bleat) quite fondly, or even if you aren't, please check out the photos someday. I'll try to make it worth your time, even if I'm not nearly worthy.
Some keyword obscuria, because history repeats itself:
Japanese dance
hands above
Brought to you by the "Don't Do Drugs Cuz It's Cool and Cute Japanese Chicks Dig It" Foundation.
Note: I finished editing photos from our trip to Kochi prefecture today, but don't have time to write the post. This photo didn't really fit in with the others, so I'm posting it alone first. This poster was inside a sealed bulletin board in front of a police station. Needless to say, whoever designed it must have been smoking crack. Then again, maybe that's the whole point... Not.
Undoubtedly the most expensive SPAM on the planet. And $3.50 for a mini can of corned beef hash! Taken at the local "gourmet" grocery store.
Since he will be leaving soon, Adam wanted to take a picture with this nice waitress at the restaurant, but she was camera shy and refused. So I had to sneak a shot. Click. Another soul stolen for the sake of western civ.
On Monday, after saying farewell to Adam, Merin, Matt, and Kuniko in downtown Fukuoka, I jumped in a taxi and headed to the airport. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the cabbie was a woman. This was a first for me, so I took full advantage of it and we had a long conversation all the way to the airport. She told me that she'd been a cabbie for twelve years, and the conversation kind of blossomed from there; she was one of those old pros that have interesting stories to tell, and drive a cab because it's their calling in life.
That wasn't the only nice thing about this cab ride, however. She knew the streets really well. At one point, approaching a long line of cars, she pulled a U-turn and drove through a housing area where the streets were so narrow there was no room for pedestrians - so she honked at them and they scurried into their little nooks and crannies! My kind of driver.
The fare was 2,090 yen. I gave her three 1,000 yen notes and told her to keep the change. It made her so happy, she almost started crying, in that "grateful grandmother" type of way.
As they say, sometimes it's not where you're going, but how you get there. What a great way to end my stay.
Growing up in Orange County, California, my parents must have taken me to Disneyland at least two or three times a year. I loved the hell out of the submarine ride, the Jungle Cruise, the Pirates of the Caribbean. Hell, I even remember at time when Captain E.O. was some impressive shit, and Star Tours - wow, when that came out, it kind of sent a big "fuck you" to all the other rides as far as sophistication goes. Yeah, I remember loving the Magic Kingdom even after we moved away to Ventura County (Camarillo and Ojai). Somewhere around high school, however, the thrill wore off. Perhaps I had overdosed on the experience, or maybe I just grew out of it. Today, I am an official Disneyland Hater. In California, as well as the vast majority of Japan, this is equivalent to being a grouchy old hermit. People cannot understand why I hate Disneyland (and I really hate it; last time I went there I almost punched out an obnoxious fucker who accused us of cutting in line in front of his kid).
Well, this may seem like a trivial thing to wrote about, but it got me to thinking again today when I saw this article (link picked up from Boing Boing):
http://www.miceage.com/allutz/al072704a.htm
The pertinent point is the fact that the Jungle Book staff no longer pack cap guns with which to ward off the angry hippo. I went to D-land at the end of last year for the first time in ages, so I could take my girlfriend (who is Thai and had never gone) and hang out with my younger cousins for a day. After the Nighmare Before Christmas-themed Haunted House experience was tainted by the "line cutting" incident mentioned above, I couldn't help but notice the Politically Correct buttfuckery achieved at the Pirates of the Caribbean - wenches chasing pirates instead of the original, perhaps more believable and historically accurate, pirates chasing wenches (for the express purpose of raping, BTW) - and this was kind of laughable, since a lot of Californians are prude PC fuckheads and this type of shit is expected. But. When I saw that the Jungle Cruise had also fallen victim to the PC mindset, I nearly blew a gasket. For Christ's sake, the cap guns were the high point of the whole fucking ride! I'm not the only one to think so, am I?
What the fuck could possibly be accomplished by deleting the climax of the Jungle Cruise? Why was it done? Are the lawyers afraid that some kid would go on a rampage with a single action reveolver, slaughtering innocent hippopotami, and then sue the park, or what? This is absolute epitome of lawyer bullshit!
My message to the idiots in charge of the park is as follows:
REARM THE JUNGLE CRUISE STAFF, ASSHOLES!
YO-HO YO-HO UNPUSSIFY THE PIRATES FOR ME!
AND BRING BACK THE SUBMARINE RIDE, IDIOTS!
If you can accomplish these three things, I will hate Disneyland a little less. And by "I," I mean, "most of us."
Update: Check out the Disney Blog.
They really do.
I confirmed it today when they forgot to tell me about the "lithium leak" drill scheduled in the office next door. What happens is, well, they simulate a spill of hazardous substances. So when a man in a white space suit stormed into our office, I naturally thought he was coming for me.
"You'll never catch me alive, copper!," I screamed, and brandished a stapler most menacingly. Well, no. Actually, I just sat there in amazement and stared. Nobody else around me seemed to react much at all, even when he shouted, "ALL CLEAR!," and stomped on down the hall.
Since no explanations were forthcoming from my coworkers, I have decided that it probably didn't really happen. Somebody must have spiked my bottled water with psilocybin or something. I guess they've learned how much I hate the first mind-numbing day back at work after an extended weekend. How sweet.
This is the best restaurant in Kyushu, Yokayokatei. Everything from bibinba noodles to tonkatsu, teppan yaki, and raw horse sashimi - all divine. Plus, we were stared by the people at the next table for speaking in English, so I conspicuously picked my nose and flicked boogers in their general direction.
All the photos I took at Kikuchi gorge came out foggy because of the blanket of mist that lingered over it all day. This was the pool we started out at, jumping off the end of the fallen log.
Natural waterslides at Kikuchi gorge.
I have found over the past month that a black cat is one of the most difficult subjects to photograph, especially if it somehow always gravitates toward black backgrounds, for instance, my black rucksack resting on the asphalt. At night.
Possibly the most disturbing strawberries on a cake that I have ever seen. The fluorescent lights and the polarized glass caused the weird bars to appear in the photo. Too cool.
New arcade game employing toy wakizashi as controller.
Adam said this ceiling adornment was cool; I said it looked vaginal. We are both right, I think.
The Kix mascot at the mall across from the terminal building. I dubbed him "Flappy."
So I checked the kitten in and I'm sitting next to some smelly foreigners at the gate. They are big and hairy - the gorillaest one actually has hairs sticking out through the back of his knit polo shirt. Gross.
Anyway, I brought the kitten in a red picnic basket thingy we bought somewhere for like 500 yen. Nam found this free coupon on the web for a rental cat carrier so I figured we'd transfer him over to it at check-in. The staff, however, had another idea. They took the top off the rental carrier, placed the entire picnic basket (with sleeping Yoda inside) into it, padded all four sides of the basket with cardboard and bubble wrap, then taped the whole contraption together and screwed the carrier back together. I am beyond asking why at this point, but it was reminiscent of a high-end department store where they use bags on boxes on wrappings on inner boxes wth partitions, ribbon, and a cherry on top.
I am going. I wanted to visit Adam's village one last time anyway. Will take some nice photos I think. Local debauchery can wait until next week, for my 30th birthday. I know, I know. The world isn't ready for my mid-life crisis. Shoot me already.
You think C-rations and MREs are bad news? Welcome to better dining through osmosis.
When I was growing up, I had an uncle who was in the National Guard. He lived in Connecticut with his lovely wife on a wide spread where they had horses (horses!) and an electrified wire that ran under the corral's top railing to prevent said horses from brushing up against it. This is where I learned, at an early age, that a long stalk of wild grass will indeed conduct electricity and make you pee your pants. Anyway, my uncle would sometimes bring back C-rats for us kids to munch on and gave us little treats like camo face paint compacts, Army Ranger booby trap manuals (use the plastic spoons from the C-rats combined with everyday, ordinary clothespins to create a trigger for trip wires), and one time he even showed me a "clacker" used to detonate claymore mines (although he didn't let me keep this - now that was one wise judgment call). Before anybody asks, I will admit up front that I did use the booby trap manuals on our avocado farm in Camarillo to [A] lure my cousin Robert and my little sister Mika into a tiger pit (read: 2-foot hole in the ground covered with leaves and filled with water instead of pungee sticks) and [B] purposefully start a fire on our property with gopher gas bombs and diesel fuel siphoned from my dad's car (I thought I had fully extinguished the blaze but it later started up again and would have burned down our house if we hadn't seen the smoke when we were driving by that part of the property to go to the store. Sorry! My bad.).
The best C-rats, hands down, were the freeze dried ice cream packs, which came in one flavor, Neapolitan, and were eaten as is and did not need reconstitution. We tried some of the entrees like spaghetti w/meatballs and some questionable chicken concoctions, but these were really quite nasty, almost inedible, which is saying a lot since we were kids and ate almost anything (for instance, my favorite drink growing up was milk mixed with Dr. Pepper, and my little bro was famous for eating pillbugs). I felt really sorry for my uncle when we saw what he had to eat while out on the field (I seem to recall him mentioning that Cadillac made the C-rats for some reason. Yes, Cadillac the boat maker.). But he seemed to be having a good time overall and would regale us with tales of firing a .50 cal M2 machine gun from an APC and setting hills ablaze with tracers, playing "army laser tag" with the newly issued MILES gear, and the merits of using a Lansky sharpening kit in contrast to a common whetstone for sharpening blades. Damn, I love him for that.
He also introduced me to the Civil Air Patrol when he moved out west, and I participated for a while with the hopes of one day being able to bomb submarines off the California coast like the heroes of old. You have to remember that these were the days of Top Gun, when Take My Breath Away seemed like a good song to fantasize making out with a girl to and my buddy Dustin's dad, a fighter pilot, was involved with actually firing a missile in the movie (he was like the coolest guy in school for a while, obviously).
But where was I? Ah, yes, osmosis. Does anybody remember that Garfield strip where he has a bunch of books strapped to his head and he's saying "I'm learning by osmosis?" Well, I really fucking hate that strip (Whoa. Who opened the hate valve, Bodhi?). Digressions aside, might I volunteer the opinion that between the choices of eating food dry or eating food reconstituted with urine, the average soldier might just lean toward eating it dry. Like, every time. Is bacteria-less urine any less urine tasting? Or perhaps they simply don't season the food since it would make everything taste too salty (maybe the JSDF can use this tactic for their soldiers from Nagoya).
The article mentions the damage that urea does to your kidneys, which is important I think. There is some debate whether drinking your own urine when you are dying of thirst is more harmful than good or not, mostly because its a diuretic, I think. It makes your cells shrink; it is the anti-Pocari Sweat of the beverage world. Then again, I often read about millions of people in China that swear by daily doses of urine for good health. Then again, some of the Chinese herbal shops I've seen sell tiger dick and toad anus for increased male potency, so I'll perhaps keep my opinion that drinking your own pee (or eating it, even sans-bacteria) might not be in your best interest, health-wise.
Besides, it gives you peepee breath.
Update: Before Dave Barry steals it, yes Indestructible Sandwich is a good name for a rock band.
The Montagnards are the Kurds of SE Asia:
Vietnam's Tribal Injustice
I take that back. The Kurds have a home base and the means to defend themselves to some degree. Maybe they are only similar in the sense that everyone lines up to screw them over. I feel really sorry for anyone in the sights of Hun Sen. (Oh shit, there goes my chances for a backpacking visa...)
Found out we can sent the kitten by ANA to Fukuoka from Itami (Osaka airport) for 2,000 yen (20 bucks). The debauchery I cancelled in Nara/Wakayama this weekend is back on track!
I wonder if the one cat per plane rule is for domestic flights as well?
I'm sure gonna miss the little carpet-shitter.
I'm planning to carry the little booger all the way to Kyushu this weekend. I'll pass him off to my sister, drink some Kyushuvians under the table again, eat some Aso beef-on-a-stick, and come back on a return flight for work and a new chapter of Talking with Myself. That's my temporary plan, anyway.
Yoda will be a good American, I just know it. He fucking hates the Taliban.
Oh, in case you haven't noticed: I'm on a blogging binge today.
All hail the Chinese butt book pirates:
Clinton is the latest victim of Chinese publishing pirates, who counterfeit entire books and rewrite the contents. Acting on the orders of their employers, translators regularly add invented content to make foreign books more appealing, such as Clinton's memories of his affair with intern Monica Lewinsky.MWAHAHAHA!"She was very fat. I can never trust my own judgment," the Mandarin version said.
In the knock-off version, Clinton quotes Chairman Mao frequently.
Go read the whole column here:
http://www.washtimes.com/upi-breaking/20040721-073739-2407r.htm
MIRACLE OF MIRACLES!
If all goes according to my master plan, by this time next week Yoda the kitten will be on US soil, forever! We (as in, "Nam") are working hard to have my sister hand carry him back home next week. Today, the vet announced that Yoda's eye has completely healed (as in, "sealed totally shut" - he'll never see out of the eye, but it won't kill him, either) due to our daily eye washing regimen and, I suspect, also the fish oil capsules I've been splitting with him. (He loves the fish oil. I merely tolerate it. But we both have disgusting breath for a few hours after. Bonding at its root levels.)
The vet estimates his age at almost exactly two months old, and gave him a rabies shot today (poor baby!). I am sad because Yoda has been keeping me company during the times when I usually talk to myself - I've been teaching him about Life, instead. I'm very proud to be raising a bilingual kitten. He can "nyan" in Japanese and "meow" in English... Been training him for the interview at Immigration, you see. Nobody's gonna call my kitten an FOB.
Did you know that there is an actual aviation regulation that permits only one feline per aircraft? Cool. My little sis is calling to reserve the slot now. Apparently, you can carry on pets or check them in as luggage, although carry-on is sometimes frowned upon (I guess if it wasn't, the terrorists would be using pit bulls instead of nail clippers).
Much more to research. Will report later. The best thing to come out of this may be the addition of the line "Cat Exporter" to my resume. Aside from my kitty being safe, healthy, and American, that is. Woooooooooooooooooooot!
Look at this spam attack from yesterday:
2004.07.21 21:34:17 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: all-fioricet.comPeople have asked if MT-Blacklist works. This is proof that it does. Even after renaming the mt-comments.cgi file, my only defense against comment spammers is this essential plug-in written by Jay Allen. I do not want to move to MT3 and that Typekey crap, so MT-Blacklist is actually a reason not to upgrade. Yes, I've seen the Blackout plug-in for Wordpress. Two words: Code thieves.2004.07.21 21:34:18 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: e-cialis.net
2004.07.21 21:34:19 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: best-buy-cialis.com
2004.07.21 21:34:21 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: great-cialis.com
2004.07.21 21:34:22 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (levitra|lolita|phentermine|viagra|vig-?rx|zyban|valtex|xenical|adipex|meridia\b)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:23 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (levitra|lolita|phentermine|viagra|vig-?rx|zyban|valtex|xenical|adipex|meridia\b)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:24 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: i-butalbital-fioricet.com
2004.07.21 21:34:25 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: i-butalbital-fioricet.com
2004.07.21 21:34:27 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (prozac|zoloft|xanax|valium|hydrocodone|vicodin|paxil|vioxx)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:28 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (prozac|zoloft|xanax|valium|hydrocodone|vicodin|paxil|vioxx)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:29 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (prozac|zoloft|xanax|valium|hydrocodone|vicodin|paxil|vioxx)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:30 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (prozac|zoloft|xanax|valium|hydrocodone|vicodin|paxil|vioxx)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:32 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (ultram\b|\btenuate|tramadol|pheromones|phendimetrazine|ionamin|ortho.?tricyclen|retin.?a)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:33 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (prozac|zoloft|xanax|valium|hydrocodone|vicodin|paxil|vioxx)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:34 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (levitra|lolita|phentermine|viagra|vig-?rx|zyban|valtex|xenical|adipex|meridia\b)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:35 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (levitra|lolita|phentermine|viagra|vig-?rx|zyban|valtex|xenical|adipex|meridia\b)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:36 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (levitra|lolita|phentermine|viagra|vig-?rx|zyban|valtex|xenical|adipex|meridia\b)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:34:37 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist comment denial on Higo Blog: (levitra|lolita|phentermine|viagra|vig-?rx|zyban|valtex|xenical|adipex|meridia\b)[\w\-_.]*\.[a-z]{2,}
2004.07.21 21:35:34 213.91.217.78 MT-Blacklist retaliatory auto-response:
COMMENT SPAMMING FUCKWAD TERMINATED WITH SHRIKE MISSILE ATTACK MUWAHAHAHAHA!!!
Note: Higo Blog is my little brothers blog, also hosted on this site.
On the other hand, it's NOT FUCKING OK to spit at Lance Armstrong just because he owns your second-rate competitors every year. Stupid fucks.
Update:
Yeah, fuck you too, you stupid ETA cunt. It's not a fucking soccer game, show some fucking class already.
Every time I swear at the perfidy of the French government, I calm myself by remembering all my good friends in that country and the wonderful times we've had over the years.
This week is marked by extraordinarily hot weather. I think the French heat wave that melted the cheese and boiled the wine in 2003 decided on a Japanese vacation this year. It's a wet, constant heat that makes me slow and irritable... My snapping at people is suffering from delayed reaction times; I'm nowhere near the top of my game, although the ear wax dribbling down my sideburns might make some killer organic candles.
Surfing around the expat blog scene, I've begun to notice that a lot of people are leaving Japan. Many already have. Is there something you should let me know? Is Rumsfield secretly planning a nuclear strike on the hospital where traitorboy Jenkins is being treated? Will Shoko Asahara pull a (stinky) remote detonator out of his butt and push the (red) button, awakening the 600 ft vibrating kokeshi monster that will stomp its way from Kamikuishiki-mura all the way to the Shibuya ward office? Please, please let me know. This "work" shit is getting B-O-R-I-N-G, quickly.
//
Update: I just had a flashback of Matilijah Junior High days, when I corrected our geography teacher's pronunciation of "Tierra del Fuego." Yeah, I got picked on after class for that one. Priceless: The teacher's name was Mrs. Pugh (pronounced "pee-you," not "pug"). Also, my history teacher was a white supremacist who taught us that Japanese-Americans who were interned during the war got "a free ride." Somehow that didn't jibe with tales of financial ruin and broken families I had heard from close relatives, so I got my parents involved. I got picked on after class for that one as well, but somehow I knew I had done the Right Thing.
NOW WILL ONE OF YOU ASSHOLE BUILDING MANAGERS TURN THE FUCKING AC ON "TURBO-MODE" OR DO I HAVE TO DAYDREAM ALL THE WAY BACK TO FUCKING KINDERGARTEN?
o shit i'm late for a meeting. lates.
Interesting display for Honmaguro in seafood section at Jusco.
If WinXP has an aneurism during re-installation and defaults to the Blue Screen of Death, with the dreaded error 000021a and the mysteriously simple descriptor: "Unknown Hard", slap the monitor and the keyboard around a few times (I'll give you hard, bitch!) and kick the minitower around until you smell smoke.
Alternatively, insert the WinXP install CD again and set the boot order in BIOS to optical drive first, hard drive second, then reboot and try, try again.
Bill Gates can be a real asshole sometimes.
In response to questions regarding the beauty of Nepalese women, Taro answered that you never really see Nepalese women in Nepal. They are traditionally kept hidden from view.
Busy three day weekend. Had to go clear out remaining stuff at my little sister's apartment in Sakai on Saturday (the stalker incident left her shaken and we didn't let her be there by herself after that), but there was too much to move with my car in a single trip, so I enlisted Taro and his van to help out. Friday, after work, I rode the hydrofoil to the airport and from there took a couple trains to his house in Horyuji. Inevitably, drinking ensued.
Some memorable moments include picking up my new theramin at Taro's new incense shop, snapping a shot of a girl in a pink yukata playing an accordion, and eating a heavenly slice of yubari melon while lightly fingering a Fender bass.
The most memorable conversation that night was one between Taro and a friend from overseas who shall remain unnamed because:
1. His older sister, who I know from university, and respect, sometimes reads this weblog
- and -
2. His older sister, who is known to punch people in the mouth, sometimes reads this weblog
(If you think you are the sister I am referring to, you definitely are not the sister I am referring to. Or in a way, maybe you are. Don't ask me, it's a zen thing.)
Anyway, this anonymous person, who I shall call Mr. X, has only been in Japan for a year or so, and had a lot of questions regarding daily life. Easy enough, so we helped him out and gave pointers and I got very sleeeeepy from the beer and knocked out for a while. When I awoke in a fuzzy state of having just realized that I must have dozed off for a spell, I was in that "overhearing snippets of hushed conversation" state of not-quite-awakeness.
Fascinating. Mr. X had started confiding in Taro about recent sexual escapades in an altogether serious manner. Serious, as in, "Am I fucked up if I get off on dotdotdot" type of talk. Now substitute the following for dotdotdot:
1. Kinky oral stuff? (Taro's answer: Hell no!)
2. Buggery? (Taro's answer: Nothin' wrong if she asks for it)
-and-
3. If she wants to stick her soapy fingers up my butt during oral gratification? (Taro's answer: Um)
At this particular juncture I could no longer contain my amusement and exploded with laughter, forever staining the moment with much back slapping and ribbing (Mr. X, you dirty dawg!). Mr. X was thoroughly humiliated and will probably have to go to a therapist to fix the emotional damage I caused by waking up at just the wrong moment, overhearing his dark secret, and then teasing him about it all night. Plus, he never got the last question answered because Taro went off on one of his tangents and the most interesting aspect of the story became whether the girl in question is a soapland veteran or not. ("Soaplands," previously known as torko, short for "Turkish bath," are places to get "sudded up." One of the standard "services," apparently, is anal probing).
Anyway, if you think you are reading about your little brother now, I just want you to know: It ain't him. He's an angel.
Amazing Japan Factoid of the Day: In Japan, you can run your fingers under the bar without getting grossed out because NOBODY STICKS GUM ON THE BOTTOM OF BARS OR TABLES. Hypochondriacs, unite.
See my chopstick art. See what Merin will look like at 40.
I have no idea where the flux capacitors or whatever this refers to were located, but this sign says, "recharging."
Electric pole in front of Taro's house.
Pictured here is a slice of Yubari melon, the most expensive melon in the world, just before consumption. Yum.
Certainly something I had never seen before. The accordion is an antique Excelsior, which probably costs 15 times more than the yukata the girl is dressed in.
I read this article this morning and can't stop thinking about it:
Terror in the Skies, Again?
If you were the author, would you have gotten up and done something? If there really were air marshals on that flight, what the fuck were they waiting for? Perhaps they didn't have "probable cause," i.e., one of the "musicians" to emerge from the lav and ask another if they had more matches, "cuz the fuse is damp with ketchup." I have this sinking feeling there were no air marshals on that flight, and the crew was simply going by the handbook to placate the passengers. If so, that's just a horrible mindfuck. But I certainly wouldn't put it over the airline companies at this point.
Conversation between me and my boss 5 minutes ago:
///
Boss: Mr. Justin, what is deductive reasoning?
Me: [Heh] Well, let us start with what it isn't. It isn't a fish. It isn't a guitar. It isn't a beverage conveyance....
Boss: [blank look] Uh.
Me: ...nor is it the ozone layer, a rotary engine, or a tasty octopus...
Boss: [annoyed] Ah...
Me: ...ain't the Pope, the Queen, or anything in between...
Boss: NONONO MR. JUSTIN. I ask you, what is "deductive reasoning?"
Me: I was in the middle of telling you.
Boss: Oh. Sorry. Continue, please.
(30 seconds later)
Me: ...not with a fox, nor in a box...
Boss: STOP! I look up in dictionary! I hate the fucking English! (storms off)
///
I am only here to serve.
19. Is it round? Yes.
18. Is it made of metal? No.
17. Is it multicolored? No.
16. Is it straight? No.
15. Do you clean it regularly? Yes.
14. Does it use electricity? Sometimes.
13. Can you use it at school? Yes.
12. Does it get really hot? No.
11. Does it have writing on it? Sometimes.
10. Is it a common household object? Yes.
9. Does it move? No.
8. Can it be used for recreation? No.
7. Do you open and close it? Yes.
6. Does it come in different colors? Yes.
5. Can you lift it? No.
4. Can you control it? Yes.
3. Is it outside? Sometimes.
2. Is it smaller than a loaf of bread? No.
1. It is classified as Other.
I even threw it some loops, switching between an American and Japanese POV (regarding electricity, coloration, etc.) and it still guessed correctly. Wow.
I know that some of you will contest my answer for #8 but I was truly doubting it would guess correctly, so decided to give it a break. Underestimated my future electronic masters, yes I did.
This year's vote for the most pitiful amusement park in Japan, on the top of Ikoma mountain.
Yomiuri Television's massive broadcast tower located in the middle of the amusement park can be seen from miles around. I could just feel my sperm wilting like poisoned tadpoles.
I slept next to this motorized cat doll, which would periodically mewl and walk in circles while its eyes lit up red. Or maybe it was all just a bad dream.
The filters on my new phonecam are sparse, but this one works pretty well.
In Japan, they often use these life-sized plastic highway worker effigies to direct motorists around road crews where a simple light would suffice. I always feel like abducting these insane dolls when I see them, maybe drag them behind my car for a few kilos then let them smash into a toll booth - after all, it is our tolls that are paying for this crap.
Parking area in Iga, infamous ninja country. FYI, they don't sell real ninja weapons in the gift shop.
Just got back from a long, long day in Nagoya at the sumo tournament. It was a wonderful experience, but the long drive home through stop-and-go traffic and a lightning storm has left me exhausted.
I will post more pics as I get around to editing them (got the backlog from last weekend, too). But for now... Time to sleeeeep.
Just me, or is it a bit tacky?
I may have blogged about this sign in front of a Amemura love hotel before, but I can't be bothered to check if it was on the old Yapeus site or on this one. Oh, well. Always worth a quick guffaw.
This is the shop that caused the Great Eggtart Craze of 2002, located between Nanpabashi and Midosuji. We bought an 8-pack for 15 bucks with the intention of taking them on our Nagoya road trip, but forgot them in Merin's refrigerator. Nam tried one the week after and got the runs, so the rest were trashed. Damn.
I looked around the building's parking garage for a fleet of lowered Impalas - no luck.
I just typed the search string "nagoya late night stupid drunk motherfuckers" into the Yahoo Japan search box on a whim, to find a good pub out here tonight. Quite unexpectedly, this blog was listed 5th. Damn, I feel like I own this town already.
Later: Why is Nagoya food so salty? It's like a monkey got loose with a salt shaker in the kitchen or something. Bad, bad monkey.
I'm really looking forward to seeing sumo for the first time. We're going to the Nagoya tournament on Saturday. Here's an article about sumo barely surviving as a school sport in Kanazawa:
Wrestle Mania
It's worth clicking for the photo alone.
Money quote from a Ministry of Education spokesman:
Nowadays it's difficult to promote a sport where the participants are basically naked.Wow, it's reassuring to see the education of a Japan's youth in such able, perceptive hands. Following this logic, we're sure to see the sharp decline in swimming in school athletic programs fairly soon, right?
There's a memorable profile on Karl Taro Greenfeld, written by the man himself, over at Time Asia:
Tokyo Popped
His writing, as always, is vivid and enjoyable. Sometimes I suspect he and Gibson go out for strolls into the Tokyo night, each mentally recording all they see.
The kitten grows as I type these very words. The trip to the vet two days ago showed his growth rate as what I thought to be impossible. The first time we weighed him, he was 220 grams. The second time, only six days later, he was 330 grams!
His eye is getting a lot better. The goopy stuff leaking from the burst eyeball cleared up as a result of daily eye washing, medicated eye drops, and the antibiotics course we feed him. Sight will never be restored to that eye as it is too damaged, but some of the coloring has been restored - it was previously just a protruding white blob.
He has gotten a lot more vocal and mewls when he wants attention, food, or both (pretty much all the time). We trimmed his nails because they get needlelike fairly quickly, and bought him some scratching posts. The posts came with some powdered catnip and I was curious as to the efficacy of "cat cocaine" on a kitten, so I dabbed a teeny bit on his nose. Pow! He went into hyperspeed for about 1.5 seconds, streaking across the room, banging his head on my computer, then rebounding and racing back to us. So, catnip does work on kittens, but not for very long. I'll save the rest for when he gets older, maybe craft a little freebase pipe for him out of glass tubing as a post-op recovery present.
We're going up to Nagoya to see the Sumo tournament tomorrow, but I'll find some time to post some more pics of him soon. Damn. Never woulda thought I'd be catblogging. I'm a dog person, if anything.
Wataru-kun must have lost his price tag again.
So it begins:
School to put electronic tags on students to monitor safety
Paired with the Ministry of Health's decision to implant foreign dogs (actual canines, not gaijin) with microchips to "prevent rabies," I think it's fairly obvious where this is heading. The next time any of you have to renew your visa, don't be surprised when they ask you to submit to a subdermal implant... On the brighter side, would this mean we no longer have to carry around our gaijin cards?
Sweat is dripping down from my scalp, running over the back of my neck, and soaking my uniform's collar. The sunlight is so intense today that it's hard to look out the windows. The lab next to our office is very nice and cool so everybody escapes there under the pretense of doing experiments. Please turn on the AC in our offices you cheapskate motherfuckers. Out of thirty five or so employees who work in this office, only myself and two others remain.
Our beloved manager must have Moroccan ancestry or something. The guy is sitting tall in his Enterprise chair and never seems to sweat at all, even in August when it gets crotchrottingly humid in Japan. The girl on phone duty looks like she has succumbed to heatstroke or dehydration, which would be bad for her but good for me since I could stop willing a heart attack on myself just to be able to ride in a nice, air-conditioned ambulance and sue the company for inhumane working conditions... Ah, who am I kidding, anyway? If that shit was possible, somebody would have done it by now, right? Right?
Update 1: I found my own "experiment" to run. Yay.
// Hypothesis: If you hook up enough batteries to a flashlight bulb, it will explode.
// Method: Hook up a shitload of batteries to a flashlight bulb.
// Observations: Very bright flash.
// Conclusion: The filament burns out, but the bulb does not break. Next time, try MORE POWER.
Update 2: The guy nest to me was using a heat gun and he (accidentally) singed the hairs on the back of his fingers, creating the most nauseating stench... I've cleared out of the lab for a while because the smell is recirculating.
My only memory of an authentic Philly cheesesteak (in the sense that I had it in Philadelphia when my dad took us; I don't think it was from a reknowned shop), almost twenty years ago, is much the same as this man experienced:
I'm standing in the street in line with some obviously neighborhood guys talking college basketball betting, just like in Armour Square but instead of talking Illinois, Notre Dame and Wisconsin they're talking Syracuse and Holy Cross. I asked them what I should get on my sandwich and this guy with a gold Italian horn and a green, white and red T-shirt tells me to get cheese-whiz. Cheese-Whiz!?! I don't know from Philly but in Chicago no Italian neighborhood guy is gonna tell you to put cheese-whiz on anything.Find the full write up and an interesting comment thread here:So I resisted this Italian Stallion's advice and got mine with provolone. The result was a very bland sandwich. The bread was soft and chewy instead of snappy, like Italian bread that been kept in a plastic bag. The meat was bland and overall this was a colorless, blah sandwich.
I just discovered the Roadfood site today via a link on Deliverance. Roadfood looks like it might be a good cross reference for Chowhound, which we used on our trip back to the states last year to find the best eatery in Thai Town.
It was also the first time for me to visit Deliverance, where I found a well-founded rant about brake dust, the invincible enemy of People Who Somewhat Give a Shit About Their Car's Appearance.
Sometimes, after a long day on the road and a few beers, Japanese comfort food just seems more appealing than anything else. This photo was taken at a robata-yaki shop in Kochi that we found late at night after checking into the hotel.
Yes, the fish are eaten whole. On a related note, the kitty ate two whole frogs next to a rice paddy today. The vet later told me that frogs are potentially bad because they have a lot of parasites. Maybe I should cook them next time.
Yoda curling around a rain gutter pipe outside the vet's office.
Nam and Merin in the rain. That dot up on the hill is Kochi Castle.
We happened upon a dance exhibition in the shotengai...
Went for a roadtrip with Nam (GF) and Merin (little sis) to Shikoku over the weekend, kitten in tow. I will post some photos later, after I get a chance to edit. The point of this post is to tell you that there may be a god. In return for saving Yoda the kitten, god may have allowed us to live and not become road butter.
Basically, I drove for the whole trip the way I usually do - fast. Life is too short for Japanese speed limits (Sometimes 80 KPH max. on the highway, but usually 60. 1 mile = approximately 1.6 kilometers, but only in the northern hemisphere, after which it rotates clockwise or something. You do the math.). Anyway. Driving down a curvy mountain road parallel to the Yoshino River, past Oboke gorge, I notice a funny sound from the left side of the car. And on the next curve, I almost slide into the guardrail with my heavier-than-usual load in the car. Oh. That doesn't feel right.
I pull over on the opposite side of the road where there is a wide space and get out to find that the left rear tire is flatter than hell, and hot to the touch. Damn. It's the hottest day of the year so far, so in the twenty minutes it takes to get the spare out of the overloaded trunk and switch it with the flat, I am soaked in sweat. Beads of it run down my face and into the corners of my mouth. And I take a closer look at the flat tire and I break out in a different kind of sweat.
You see, my car (Nissan Silvia) is getting very old by Japanese standards. It is a favorite among drifters who race mountain roads because of its superb chain-driven engine, highly customizable configuration, and rear wheel drive. It kicks ass and takes names of more expensive cars all day. However, it is old (I continue to drive it because a good friend gave it to me before he died of cancer a few years back. Also, I would never bend to the Japanese tradition of junking a car just because it's old. My veteran Silvia will take your new bimbobox's lunch money and make it cry all day, every day). The car has settled in such a way that the wheels developed a negative camber. Don't ask me to elaborate on the technical details, cause I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about and I'll make shit up. Practically, his means that the tires wear out faster on the inside edge tha they do on the outside edge. Meaning, unless you specifically inspect the inside edges, they look perfectly fine. I hadn't inspected the inside edges for a year, and was just thinking about getting new tires (I like the shine of new tires anyway). When I saw the inside edge of the tire after I took it off, I broke out in a cold sweat. There was much steel beltage showing through. Thinking of all the 180s on asphalt, donuts in parking lots, and high-speed driving I've done in the past year (a lot less than I used to , but still...), I realized that a harmless flat that caused zero damage was one of the best possible ends to this scenario.
I drove slowly to the nearest Autobacs on the spare. It was 60 kilos away. Replaced the worn tires with the new Diazza series from Dunlop as they were out of the cheapie Autobacs brand. It was Dunlops or Yokohamas, but I find low- to mid-end Yokos to be overrated, and the Diazzas just came out last year. If I wanted to put serious money into the car, I'd go for Toyos, but I'm not into all that. If I get serious about it, I'll jinx my good luck with Silvia, and it would break my heart to see this daily reminder of my good friend on a junk heap.
Could someone good at math proof this formula for me, please:
Kindness to kitten/N =/> Good car mojo(x+20r)
I have no idea what this store is... I could have read the signs on the door, but it just felt better to keep it a mystery. Maybe there's a receptionist inside mumbling about shrimp gumbo, shrimp stew, shrimp burger...
The cat is permanently blind in one eye. The eyedrops received at the first trip to the vet worked for his right eye, which is now normal, but the left eyeball has burst like a rotting grape. Eeew. Poor Yoda (now his official name since we are very unlikely to find a home for him with someone else) is in pain when his eye needs to get flushed with sodium wash. We have to hold his little kitty paws as he mews in pain. Absolutely heartbreaking I tell you. At this point I have stopped hating society as a whole for abandoning this little baby (the vet says he was a month old when we found him), and have merely become indifferent. I was so intent on hating, it was probably giving me an ulcer. Which I found kind of self-defeating. Even though this latest Osaka pervert bullshit with my sister drove me to the edge again. Man, fuck civilization. Whatever, I just need to let it go. Like it says in the song Nada Cambia, it's like hating necrophiliacs for fucking the dead. Indeed. If I ever find the pervert lurking around my sister's place, I'll pummel him into bloody meat and feed his eyes to the kitten. But I'll be indifferent about it (think of a kung-fu movie showdown scene set to Debussy).
Well, I have to concentrate my thinking on the kitten now. What do I do with him? I really do not have the time to keep him, because he needs to go to the vet all the time. We can't give him away in this condition... Today I spoke to the vet, and we discussed euthanasia as an option... But the cat is doing so much better than when we found him! The problem is, the eye infection could spread to his brain at any time, which the vet did not discuss in great detail, but I suspect will end much like Alzheimer's. I guess I am in a moral paradox between putting Yoda out of his misery quickly, or letting him live a possibly painful existence. Shit. Well, for the meantime we will be thinking about this... No reason to rush at this point. The vet says that if the busted eyeball seals itself and stops leaking vitreous humor, the cat will have a better chance of survival. Shit, even if he suevives I'm gonna have to leave him in Japan when I leave in a year or so... I'll have saved him only to abandon him again. Maybe at that time somebody will take him, though. Goddamn what am I thinking? I'm not even supposed to have him in my house now... BOY, LIFE REALLY SUCKS!
I hold the life of a kitten in my hands. Ultimately, it is my decision. But I would appreciate any guidance or feedback you have for me in the comments below. Is it better to put him down humanely, or give him a chance at life, however painful it may be?
Yesterday reaffirmed my contempt for the Japanese police.
My little sister, who lives in Sakai (Osaka), got home from teaching her morning classes at noon. There was a strange guy lurking around the stairs of her apartment building who set alarm bells ringing off in her head, so she hurriedly rode the elevator up to the 7th floor. She looked down the staircase once to see if he had followed her that way, but there was no sign of him. Just before she got to her door, she turned around to find the guy standing right behind her! Startled, she took a swing at him and started yelling at the top of her lungs, very likely saving herself from harm. The perp was frightened off.
How easy it is to relate this all now. When she called me right after it happened, everything was a blur. She had just locked herself in her apartment, so I told her to call the cops immediately (110 is the Japanese equivalent of 911). I gave my manager a heads-up and took the day off, ran to my car, picked up my girlfriend at the house, and headed for Osaka. It took a couple hours to get to her place. The cops were already gone when we got there, having concluded their "investigation" and telling my sister to call them if she "ever sees the guy again." Need I point out what a fucking joke this is.
It's ironic that a week after I write a post about gun control, I find myself wishing I could give her a piece to pack around the last week she will be in that apartment. I guess an ASP baton will have to do. My sister came back with us last night and will be here over the weekend.
Anyway, posting here may be light for a while because I'm playing mental D&D. Killing goblins and all that.
